And Baby Makes Four
by Rhianwen
Summary: If it's a girl, she's going to make her wait to get married until she finds the right person. If it's a boy, she's going to buy him a tiny pair of sunglasses. RudeElena. Fluffy. The title was purely for silly fun.


And Baby Makes Four

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Summary: If it's a girl, she's going to make her wait to get married until she finds the right person. If it's a boy, she's going to buy him a tiny pair of sunglasses. Rude/Elena. Fluffy.

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Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, and after giving them a baby, I'm SURE they don't like me. XD

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This is _not_ the way she always thought she would await her firstborn's arrival.

Elena knows, logically, that she has never _really_ liked children, and _really_ never thought of having her own. Still, she would've thought that, if it _did_ ever happen, it would be in conjunction with a safe, predictable marriage to a safe, predictable, mind-numbingly boring businessman from Upper Midgar, who would insist that she quit her job right away – partly to keep her safe, and partly to keep her out of the way while he started a torrid affair with the chesty brunette, still thin and free of out-of-control hormones, in his office. She would've thought that she would get through nine months of smiling as brightly as if she'd _meant_ it, while inwardly dreading the end of her freedom and the end of having that slim dancer-body that never survives more than one baby without adopting several more inches, all in fat.

Okay, so maybe Mom and Dad weren't the best example to model her hypothetical pregnancy after.

She was about a hundred and fifty percent wrong, anyway, she thinks with a tiny smile, one hand hovering over her still-flat stomach as she stares unseeingly at the old, roughly-made wooden cradle that she slept in when she was a baby – not hunted down from Mom to seven different aunts because of any sentimental crap like a family heirloom, but because she didn't want to see Rude's face when she announced that she'd spent about a quarter of the price of a car on one of these _really good_ baby cribs.

God knows what they'll do when the kid outgrows it.

God knows what they'll do _before_ the kid outgrows it.

She's not as stupid as people always think; she knows that they're in about the worst possible place for this.

Two small, cruddy apartments recently sold to buy one big, cruddy apartment, rarely used anymore because they've hardly been back to Midgar since those Weapons started rampaging around the Planet.

Also, two parents who brutally rub out often innocent people for a living, usually miles from home. Or used to, anyway, and will probably keep doing it, even if it's not under the same name anymore, because it's been so long that it's almost all they know how to do anymore.

Not to mention, the distinct possibility that the world is ending.

But at least Rude's taking it well, she thinks, smile growing more than she knows at the memory of the incredulous joy in his voice and his smile when he asked if she was sure, how far along, was everything okay so far.

It took her a long time, too, to figure out whether that smile was _joy_ or _okay, Elena, stop playing around, we don't have time for this_.

It really seemed more like the first one, even at the time. But, she had thought, twisting the edge of her jacket nervously, that might just be wishful thinking. Because of course she had been wearing her uniform; and of course even the circumstances of telling him _honey, we're having a baby unless you want me to get rid of it because I am completely alright with that if you think it's best_ hadn't been normal, either.

After several days of putting it off, wild terror of cold anger and despair and grim acceptance in his voice disguised by the desire to wait until she was _sure_, she had finally grabbed his arm on the way out to the car to meet Reno. Blurted it out in the elevator that some miracle let be empty.

There hadn't been time to _ask_ him if he was happy or worried or furious, and the brief kiss before the elevator door opened at ground that _should_ have told everything, hadn't.

Funny that ultimately, it was Reno who had given her that little bit of help she needed _interpreting_ him. Reno, who knew Rude better than she probably ever would, had pulled her into a crushing bear hug and laughingly congratulated the _little mommy_.

He wouldn't have done that if Rude had been coldly, helplessly furious at their carelessness ruining three lives. Reno's _congratulations_ in place of _condolences_ had reassured her enough to let a tiny flicker of excitement start whenever she looked at her old cradle, already lined with all the fuzzy pink and blue and yellow blankets she could find.

Maybe, she lets herself think tentatively as two hands, large and strong and deadly and gentle with her, land at her shoulders and that deep, soothing voice of early-morning coffee and extra blankets when she's shivering at night and strength _no matter what_ and everything else that she has come to love asks what she's staring at, it'll be okay. If he can be this happy, he must _know_ it will, even if she sure can't see how from here.

Maybe it'll even be sort of nice, holding a tiny little baby that looks like them and seeing Rude act like a _father_ and seeing _Uncle Reno_ act like a goofball to get a laugh. If it's a girl, she decides, twisting around in his arms to kiss him, she's going to _make _her wait to marry until she finds someone she loves.

If it's a boy, she's going to get him a tiny pair of sunglasses.

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End Notes: Geez, I love these livejournal challenge communities. They, like, get me actually _writing_ stuff! It's great! Anyway, thank-you for reading, and opinions are always welcome, even if they are of the flame variety.


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